


We're All In Love Tonight

by KilltheDJ



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Fluff, Gay yearning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-04-21 19:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22105864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KilltheDJ/pseuds/KilltheDJ
Summary: One day, there will be no fighting, no surviving. There'll be living, and there can be love.But for now, Kobra Kid is content with here, now, tucked away into his own corner of the world with potentially his favorite person.
Relationships: Kobra Kid/Mr. Sandman (Fall Out Boy)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 29





	We're All In Love Tonight

“One day…” Sandman mumbles sleepily, twirling a lock of dirty blond hair. “One day, ‘m gonna run away with you, you know?” 

If Kobra laughs, it isn’t out of disbelief, though maybe it’s his own doubt. They’re teenagers. Plans change, everything changes, there’s no way that promise would ever be kept. With Sandman laying next to him, though, drowsy and wearing his heart on his cheek, he can’t stand saying anything negative. “One day.”

“One day you’ll let me see underneath the mask of the Kobra Kid?” asks Sandman, looking at him with eyeliner-rimmed eyes, the color hidden by the darkness of their stolen moments together. 

“If you let me see underneath all that make-up one of these days.” The joke keeps the conversation from becoming too serious, and Kobra likes that. He doesn’t want serious.

He wants to lay here, with his arms wrapped around the boy who holds his heart, and close his eyes, and pretend that everything is fine.

Nothing is fine. 

No, outside of that door, out in the real world, outside of the spare room DJ Hot Chimp has in her radio station, Party Poison is waiting for Kobra to get home, and Dr. Benzedrine is certainly wondering where Sandman was.

He finds he doesn’t care.

They’re positioned to where they’re facing each other, like Sandman likes, and Kobra likes being able to hold Sandman close without sacrificing seeing him and hearing the little details in his voice. 

“Hey, Sandy?” He asks softly, the silence weighing down, not yet piercing the bubble of peace around them. 

“Hm?”

“I…I love you.”

Kobra knows ‘I love you’ doesn’t mean as much as it’s supposed to, he knows he’s pastel and a thousand other adjectives, but none of them sound right on his tongue, not yet, and if he closes his eyes, he can imagine a world where this is an everyday occurrence. 

Then the silence brings him to the present. Sandman isn’t saying anything. 

There’s little reasoning behind why he’s so worried. Even if Sandman doesn’t feel the same way about him, he isn’t going to ruin this moment; Kobra knows him well enough to be positive he’d wait until he was back at the Mansion with Benzedrine, maybe to radio him, or maybe ghost him entirely.

Sandman doesn’t do that, though. Instead, he releases a shaky breath, reaching his other hand up to cup Kobra’s face as best as he could with the side of Kobra’s face on the flat pillow. The blankets rustle, but unlike usual, Kobra can’t find it in himself to be annoyed, enamoured by the way Sandman is looking at him.

Not like he wants anything. Not like he needs anything. Nothing less than unabashed infatuation. 

“I think I love you too,” is what finally leaves Sandman’s mouth, a sigh following right after, and neither say anything; all they seem to be able to do is stare at each other. Kobra’s clinging to Sandman like he’s the only thing keeping him grounded - he is - and Sandman starts humming.

You never know someone can be bad at humming until you listen to Sandman. 

Nevertheless, Kobra shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but frowns when Sandman stops messing with his hair, giving him a pointed, amused look.

Well he has no choice now, does he? 

“I hate you, you know that, right?” Kobra huffs, but he isn’t exactly complaining too much as he shifts, sitting up to lean back on his elbows so he doesn’t feel as cramped under the blankets. 

Another voice joins in the humming, because of course Kobnra recognizes the song - how could he not, when he lives out in a Desert wasteland and knows that his love is never going to last, not for anything except his revenge-filled destructive dreams. 

He can almost imagine the melodic, rough voice from the singer of another time whispering through the room, but the only thing they have is Kobra. 

A decent singer at best, in his own opinion, he wishes he could do justice to the lyrics - “Move your body when the sunlight dies,” has always resonated somewhere in his chest, he just doesn’t know where.

Eventually, all things come to an end, and the humming stops as soon as it started, and Sandman’s back to messing with his hair, sitting up, cross-legged with no regard for how messed up the sheets were at this point.

Then again, at least they weren’t dirty, or at least not in the way you expect. Sometimes sleep outweighs other things. Sometimes waking up with the love of your teenage life in your arms is the most peaceful you think you’re ever going to be, and there’s nothing you’d rather do than hold to the seconds slipping through the hourglass.. 

“Do you have to go?” It’s always Sandman who asks when they damn well know the answer. They both have to go. Face the world, pull the masks back on, keep their guns by their side and hope to Destroya nothing memorable happens. 

Kobra feels guilty every time he has to answer. So this time, he answers a bit differently. “Not right now. You… wanna stay here for a bit longer?”

They have places to be. 

Sandman smiles and lays back down, not bothering to pull the blanket back up - more than irritating, so Kobra fixes it for him. 

“‘M sorry,” Kobra blurts, and he doesn’t know what prompts it, nor what prompts how tightly he’s suddenly holding Sandman, afraid to let go. “‘M sorry the only time we get to see each other is in the dark. ‘M sorry that ‘m never aroun’ when ya need me to be. ‘M sorry for - for -” 

“For nothing,” Sandman corrects. It’s sharp enough for Kobra to shut his mouth - and his eyes, for that matter, squeezing them shut and hoping he isn’t going to get a bad reaction. But of course he isn’t, this is Sandman. “You’re sorry for nothin’, because there’s nothing to be sorry about. These are our lives, and as much as I wish I could see you more, I wouldn’t change this for the world, you hear?”

“But didn’t you just say -”

“No - well, yeah, but you know what I mean! I mean, like… Sure, in another life maybe we could see each other more, maybe our crews don’t hate each other, maybe this, maybe that, maybe, maybe, maybe. But I wouldn’t change here, now, with you, for anything. For the world. You could put a gun to my head right now and tell me to say it never mattered and I would say, ‘shoot me’.”

And Sandman says he doesn’t have a way with words.

The next words out of Kobra’s mouth aren’t that significant - some joke about how Sandman’s dumb, but he’s dumb enough to like Kobra, and Kobra likes that-, but it’s the little things that make the moment one he can recall years down the line, if he makes it that far in life.

Curled together underneath ratty blankets, despite the temperature steadily rising. Sandman messing with his hair again. Kobra quietly tracing the lines of Sandman’s face with his index finger, ignoring the soft laughs from how it tickles. Being together, for once, just them, a history they can map out in the subtle habits of trust. 

Kobra didn’t know when he fell so hard. But he did, and Destroya help him, he’s never going to forget this moment; he’ll keep it in his memory like a secret, something no one needs to know about.

And when he finds some Sharpie haphazardly thrown on the floor, it won’t just be his memory. It’ll be mapped out in the notes on his and Sandman’s skin, snaking anywhere from right below his collarbone to above his hip, reaching just above his wrists, circled around his arms. 

_

No one asks what the faded Sharpie is from. It never stayed smudged for too long before the ink was reapplied, by whom no one was allowed to know. 

Kobra’s probably going to get ink poisoning, and he doesn’t care.

**Author's Note:**

> gay yearning gay yearning gay yearning. that's it. special thanks to @raven-phantom for betareading this and putting up with my multiple double messages !


End file.
